How do you know if you’re an abusive jerk?

I’m moving out of my apartment, having only lived there for three months. I didn’t know there was a problem this big until Wednesday, but once I heard so many things, I made plans to escape.

It started with a call from the apartment manager. He said, “Your roommate came to the office; says she feels unsafe and that her service dog is unsafe. She would like to move out.” Of course, she can’t do that unilaterally. The lease is something we both signed (plus the cosigner). Everyone has to agree.

That was a surprise! We don’t get along too well, and I’ve even offered to move out before. I said that if we couldn’t reach an agreement I’d move out. I didn’t know why she didn’t come to me, and where the “safeness” issue came from.

I asked a friend of mine to call her and let her know he was a mediator. I wanted to know what was going on, I wanted to tell her I wasn’t going to harm her or her dog, and that really I had no big problems besides some sensitivity to the dog itself.

My mediator called me back and told me she started spewing all these things. She’d apparently reported me to a judge or something (unclear to whom), signed an affidavit saying I was mentally and physically abusive, that I had called her stupid and retarded many times, made fun of her handicaps, and that I was racist and had said many nasty, racist things against white people. She’d apparently reported me to the SPCA for animal abuse as well. Finally, she’d reported me to the apartment management trying to get me evicted, saying that the apartment management knew me to be a troublesome tenant who had gone down to the office many times to make a scene. Also, apparently while she always went to bed early, I would stay up late and blast my [weird] movies.

I can definitely be rude, not nice, and make mistakes, but I don’t think that I am any of these things. I didn’t think I needed to have affidavits signed saying such things, and I certainly wouldn’t consider myself abusive.

I called the apartment manager back and asked if such a report against me had been made and if they were trying to evict me. He said no, which made me believe that none of the other things were true either.

I found a couch to crash on for the night, an escort home so I could grab some clothes, and I left. Finally, I called her to let her know I was prepared to move out on Monday, and that I wouldn’t be home that night. Surprisingly, she seemed totally calm and cheerful about the whole thing

I don’t think I am any of these things that she’s said. I don’t use the word ‘retarded’ ever, although I do say the word ‘stupid’ sometimes. It’s usually in the context of, “People in general are stupid! It’s super annoying!”

I might be sensitive around dogs, but I’m not going to ever seriously injure one. At best, I’ll push one aside if it’s jumping on me.

I do watch movies late at night. I usually use headphones, I think, but if I didn’t at some point, then I wouldn’t have been opposed to her knocking and asking me to keep it down.

Everyone laughs at the ‘racist against white people’ thing. I suppose I could be discriminatory against white people, but…I don’t think I am? I don’t know, I know all sorts of different people and they’re all their own way. As much as I can, I try to gear my behavior into acting a pleasant way around them. Maybe I suck at it though?

Also the last person I was rude to wasn’t white, so what the hell does that mean?

I was so terrified to come home; I didn’t know what I’d find when I got there. The whole response seemed disproportionate to me, and I didn’t know what other disproportionate thing could happen.

To top it all off, my friend (the mediator, which was a lovely favor) started getting phone calls from one of my roommate’s friends. This friend told him that it sounded like I might be having psychiatric issues.

If I am crazy and horrible and abusive, how would I even know? Even if you ask someone who’s known you for years, “Hey, am I a good person?” and they say “yes”, how do you know they’re not lying? That they don’t want to say anything that might make you freak out because they’re secretly afraid you’ll stab them?

And my work friends! We talk over coffee in the morning, perhaps during lunch. But they don’t see me in the evenings. They have no idea if I go home to hit living creatures with a baseball bat. How do they know I’m not horrible? Why trust me?

I don’t think I’m that terrible, but I might be. I have definite failings. I speak as directly as I can, and perhaps I’m not tactful. I’ve probably made a joke or two, or said something which wasn’t meant to be hurtful, and it enraged the other person. I shoved the dog when it was on my stuff, and I didn’t think it was mean, but perhaps I overreacted because I was stressed and terrified. She asked me directly if I thought she was stupid, so I answered in the affirmative. I’m really bad at answering those direct questions when I would have rather omitted such information. I should have been prepared to not answer, maybe, instead of reflexively answering. I get mad sometimes, including over the election (sometimes it feels like the news is in my face and I can’t handle it). But it’s not terrible to be mad sometimes, as long as you’re able to deal with the problem effectively.

Most of the time, I’m happy with how I’ve treated other people. Even despite my failings. I don’t know if I’d say I’m a good person, but I’m fine with saying I’m a satisfactory person. Or maybe, “Terrible, but not terribly so.”

All I wanted was for a roommate so that we could help each other out. Some people are incompatible (and I said I was ready to move once I decided it wasn’t a good situation). But the idea is working together should make things better for everyone.

In the end, though, I was perceived as an abusive freak. And now I don’t know if my perception of myself follows what other people think I am.